Abduction
by incendiopuff
Summary: America is enthralled by the mysterious Russia... however, when Russia tries to take advantage of him, how will this incident change his relationship with England?
1. Chapter 1

America struggled against the bonds that held his wrists behind his back, but he knew it was no use; they were bound so tightly that if he made a wrong move they would start bleeding. He tried to cry out but the material stuffed in his mouth made that impossible, so he settled for glaring angrily at his captor, and refused to show his fear.

Russia was bending over America, grinning like it was all a game. He had easily captured America and tied him up; it had been no trouble at all. Of course, he knew America would enjoy it eventually, especially seeing as he had been shooting him those 'looks' when he thought Russia wasn't looking. But he was. And he had seen. And that is why he was now going to play a little game with America, and obviously Russia would have the upper hand.

He traced his finger along America's neck, and he could tell the other nation was holding back a shiver. Russia was beginning to grow annoyed by the lack of reaction from America so he sharply slid his knee between America's legs and was rewarded when America tried to squirm away from him. The angry look on America's face intensified.

Russia slowly bent down to whisper into his ear. "You know you want m-". Suddenly he was sitting back and cradling the side of his face; America had head butted him. Disgust was evident on every bit of his face and Russia glared at him. He shoved his knee further to get back and America's gasp of pain was silenced by the gag. His eyes started to glisten but he didn't break eye contact with Russia.

"Hmmm, you're a hard one to break, but I'm sure I can sort that out."

America was desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. He had always been thrilled by Russia because he had seemed so mysterious and unstoppable, and he had to admit, he did feel a certain way about him. However, that didn't mean he wanted this. Thrills were coursing through his body and he hated every second of it. He quickly took inventory of his imprisonment. There was no way he could escape using his hands, they were next to useless. He couldn't cry for help; he was almost choking on the gag anyway, so the only thing he could use was his legs.

He tried to pull himself further away from Russia so that he could move his legs, but Russia stopped him by smothering him with a pillow. America was too busy trying to breathe to think about moving anymore. What in the name of hell was Russia doing? He squirmed to try and reach some air but he couldn't do it and he was steadily becoming light-headed. He thrashed around and managed to turn himself over so that his nose was away from the pillow. He heard Russia chuckle from somewhere above him.

"You have just made my life much easier America, so thanks!" While America was breathing heavily through his nose and getting over his panic, Russia hooked his fingers around the top of America's trousers, feeling him tense up beneath him. Suddenly, America flipped himself over again and used that movement to carry his leg round and he kicked Russia in the face, successfully making him let go. However, he didn't judge it right and his momentum carried him forwards and he fell off the bed and onto the floor.

He'd hit himself badly but he didn't pause while he used his strong stomach muscles to pull himself into a sitting position and then used the bedpost to lean on as he knelt, and then pushed himself onto his shaking legs. Russia was once again cradling his face and he glared at America through his hands. There was a cut along his face from America's boot and he removed his scarf so it wouldn't get stained with blood. He then got up and stalked towards America, smiling a little sadistically at him. America turned and ran towards the window, launching himself out of it without even checking how high up it was. He barely missed Russia's hands when he attempted to grab him before he jumped.

America fell and hit the ground hard, crying out into the gag as he felt his ankle snap and his arm twist. A tear fell from his eye as he got up and put his weight on his bad ankle, limping away from Russia's house as fast as he could. After what seemed like hours of unbearable pain he collapsed outside his front door and blacked out, not hearing the hurried footsteps and shouts around him.


	2. Chapter 2

America massaged his head as he walked through the corridor towards the meeting room. It was just his luck that he had acquired all these injuries just before a world meeting. Of course, he was so used to being the most positive and joyful nation out of all of them that he would have no problem putting on a happy façade. However, his physical appearance was definitely going to draw attention to himself. The truth was he looked like _shit_.

It had been a meagre three days since that awful encounter with Russia, and instead of recovering from his injuries, they had gotten worse. Not to mention he just generally looked all round tired. His arm was bruised and sore, with much of the skin looking purplish and his ankle was heavily bandaged and he winced as he walked. Really he should be using crutches or something to support himself, but he'd refused to do this, wanting to appear as normal as possible.

Aside from those obvious injuries, his skin was a patchwork of bruises, which is generally what happens when you throw yourself out of a window. He had a splitting headache from not sleeping for two nights and there were visible bags under his eyes.

He came to the end of the corridor swiftly and paused for a moment with his hand on the door handle. He _really _did not want to go inside. The light from the floor lamp by the door caught on his watch. _7:20am_. Great, 20 minutes late. He could hear France making a speech from inside the room already.

America took a deep breath and entered the room.

"Ohonhonhon, and _that_ is why I don't want to have anything else to do with dear Angleterre. "

Fuming, England stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. "Now listen here frog! That was one time and _one_ time only, and it is hardly relevant to the matter at ha-," He cut off abruptly, staring in horror at America who had just pulled out a chair beside him. Curiously, the other countries turned to look too, with varying degrees of shock and amusement appearing on their faces. Russia's face was one showing outright pleasure.

"Uh… hey dudes! The hero is here!" America plastered a huge grin on his face but his attempt at cheerfulness went unnoticed as everyone stared at him. Nervously he tugged at his tie. "So, uh, carry on with whatever you were arguing about…" He trailed off as again, no-one took in what he was saying.

"Amérique… what on earth happened to you? You look like someone's been treating you a little roughly…" France finished off his sentence with a half-hearted wink.

"Yeah well… it's nothin' really!"

"It looks like someone has beaten you up, da?"

America resisted the temptation to throw Russia a glare and instead he sat down slowly, sighing as the pressure was removed from his ankle. Thankfully, Germany cleared his throat and went to the front of the room. "Right well, now America is here, we can get on to other topics that may concern him." America sighed in relief as nearly everyone's attention turned back to Germany and he relaxed back in his chair, avoiding the concerned gaze of his former caretaker.

Well, hadn't that meeting just been a blast. America was walking, or rather limping, his way back through the woods towards his house, having just left the meeting and the inane speculations about his injuries. Obviously, he hadn't told anyone how he had got them. To be honest, there were only two people who knew the full story, and that was himself and Russia. Even England, who had been the one to find him and look after him after he collapsed in front of his house, didn't know what had happened, much to his chagrin.

America smiled dimly. England had declared him to be a reckless git who had no thought for his own safety and then went on a long rant about how irresponsible he was. His mood hadn't improved when America told him that he had 'tripped over a fallen tree'. _Not_ convincing.

Suddenly, his weak smile was wiped off his face entirely as he heard a small 'snap' behind him. He jumped and paused but didn't hear anything else. He must have been imagining it. He carried on walking and relaxed again but after a few moments he could swear he heard the sound of footstep. He stopped and his hand went to the pocket of his bomber jacket.

"If you think you can capture me again like last time and rape the hell outta me then you're wrong." He gripped the handle of the pistol and turned around, aiming it directly at the source of the noise only to come face to face with a very irritated, very confused England.

"You idiot! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

America quickly stowed the gun away in his pocket and he looked at England sheepishly. He went red and rubbed the back of his neck which was his nervous habit. "Uh. Sorry dude. Thought you were…. uh… someone else.

"And may I enquire as to who you thought would be sneaking up on you to rape you of all things?" England was glaring at America with his piercing green eyes and America could feel a blush creeping over his cheeks.

"Haha… no-one obviously…" He stared at the ground.

Abruptly he felt England's hand on his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "America… that wasn't what happened the other day was it?"

"No! No of course not! I jumped out a window before it could ha- Uh, I mean…" He stopped talking when he saw the look on England's face.

"You jumped out a window? A _window_! Bloody hell America do you have a death wish?"

"Well it was either that or get raped England! Which would you prefer?"

England got angrier and his voice was an icy hiss. "Who did it?"

"Uh…"

"America, who did it? I'll sodding kill them!"

England still had his hand on America's shoulder protectively and he looked angrier than America had ever seen him. For some reason this really, _really_ annoyed America. After all, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself!

"Hey dude, it's not your job to look after me anymore remember? I can look after myself so just back off."

"America you can't just allow everyone to treat you like this! Now, who did it!?"

"No," America backed up a step, pressing his back against the trunk of a tree, "I'm independent now and I don't need you to treat me like I'm a kid!"

England went quiet and took his hand away from America. He backed away slightly. "I know that. But that doesn't mean you can't ever ask me for help," He held up a hand when America opened his mouth to speak, "As an equal."

"Well I'm not asking you for help dude."

England nodded, accepting this. "Well just remember that it doesn't hurt to confide in someone when you're in a mess." He turned and began walking away in the direction he came, presumably to go stay in a hotel or get a late flight at the airport.

America watched him go and was after a moment of indecision he took a step after England. "Hey… Arthur… d'ya wanna come over? I could use some help walking home." He grinned hopefully.

England smiled, maybe because of the unexpected use of his human name. "Of course I will Alfred."


End file.
